


wearing my heart like a crown

by itsforscience



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-29
Updated: 2010-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-08 10:04:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsforscience/pseuds/itsforscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for the prompt: <i>post-split awkwardness with bonus!pining</i> at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/bandomvalentine/">bandomvalentine</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	wearing my heart like a crown

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: _post-split awkwardness with bonus!pining_ at [bandomvalentine](http://community.livejournal.com/bandomvalentine/)

"It's not like, personal or anything guys," Ryan says, rolling his eyes at the ground. "You know that. Of course, I mean--"

"Yeah, hey," Spencer cuts him off. "Yeah, we know that, man." He slings an arm over Ryan's shoulders, ruffles his hair and laughs when Ryan shoves him away, smiling. He's already told Spencer, Brendon knows, of course. Because that just makes sense. That's just how it is, how they are.

Jon's grinning at them from where he's sitting on the floor, they're in Ryan's living room, here because they were called for a "band meeting". He thought it was going to be about writing new songs. It's kind of funny, Brendon thinks, grimacing.

"We're happy if you're happy, you know?" Spencer's smiling at Ryan and Jon, talking for Brendon because Brendon hasn't said a thing. Not yet, but once he's had time to clear his head and really _get_ this he will. He will.

"I think it's gonna be awesome," Jon says, still smiling, still staring up at Ryan and Spencer.

Brendon realizes he's been nodding, making little "ha" sounds while the others have been talking. Participation on autopilot. Brendon realizes he was the only one that didn't know. He thinks he's gonna be sick.

"We're not thinking of doing this right away," Ryan says, looking at all of them, his eyes flicking quickly over Brendon. "We want time to work all this out, I mean."

"Yeah totally," Spencer nods. "Of course, plus we'll have to figure out how to tell everybody."

"The fans, man," Jon laughs a little. "Holy shit."

Brendon thinks of the fans, thinks of how some of them will be downright devastated, and others might actually just accept it. Jon just laughs and shakes his head. Brendon still doesn't quite know how he feels yet.

He watches them all smile at each other, feels the corners of his mouth pulling up, autopilot. Brendon thinks of how they all knew, they _knew_, this meeting was to tell _him_ about it.

The others keep talking but he doesn't really hear it, they're laughing and he doesn't know why. They still haven't noticed that he hasn't said anything. Ryan barely glances at Brendon when he suddenly gets up and leaves the room.

 

***

 

Panic at the Disco announced that they split and the world exploded, partly because of joy. Brendon can hear Pete smile over the line. "The world loves to see people fail."

Brendon smirks, cradling the phone with his shoulder as he washes the dishes. "It's not really a failure if the band's technically still together."

Pete snorts at the other end. "Semantics."

"Yeah well, whatever," Brendon smiles. "The world's still waiting for Fall Out Boy to break up."

"The world can suck my dick, dude," Pete says, and then Brendon hears a crunching sound in his ear, Pete's eating something. "I have everyone's names signed in blood on a laminated contract, they're not getting out of this thing unless they _die_."

Brendon chuckles, "Oh, and _even_ then."

"_Even then_," Pete says, obviously grinning. "Patrick's gonna be strung up *NSYNC style at all our shows, bro, whatever it takes."

"Yeah, yeah." Brendon's neck's starting to hurt at this angle, and he almost broke a plate because he wasn't paying attention. But there's still something he wants to bring up. "So hey, have you talked to Ryan at all?"

"Nope," Pete says, sounding rough. "Not yet, but fucking whatever, you know?"

"Whatever?"

"Yeah." Pete sighs and takes another bite out of—whatever he's eating that's making that crunchy sound, fruit probably. "When he wants to call me up and talk about it, we will," he says sounding muffled. Brendon hears Pete swallow. "What the fuck ever."

"Right," Brendon says. "Look man, I gotta go or I'm gonna start breaking dishes here."

"'Kay dude, talk to you later." Pete takes a crunchy bite out of his—whatever. "We should hang soon, yeah?"

"Definitely man, I'll call you tomorrow to set something up."

"Sweet," Pete says, "and hey, tell Spencer, too." It's said in a completely casual way, but that's the thing - it's _too_ casual. Which means the hang out is probably part business.

"Sure thing," Brendon says anyway. "Bye man."

"Later," Pete says, and Brendon hangs up.

He looks at his phone, thinks about maybe calling Ryan but doesn't. Instead he sets it down and keeps washing the plates.

 

***

 

Brendon and Ryan were cool, they were. They still hung out, they still joked around the same. Everything was totally _normal_. Even though the unwritten, unsaid rule hung between, the _don't ever, ever, **ever** bring it up_ rule. And hey, really, what's there to bring up? The split was amicable, mutual, it was sudden but natural. There's no bad blood between them and everything's fine. That's what Brendon tells himself, anyway.

Sitting across from Ryan now - at some club he can't even remember the name to - talking to him, watching him, it all makes it painfully clear how much he _hates_ him. So _fucking_ much. Brendon just wants to reach over and _punch him_. He wants to shake him, yell at him, tell him that if there was something wrong with him—with the band they could've fixed it _together_.

Anyone that says a band isn't like a relationship is a liar.

Brendon doesn't punch him, though. Instead, he laughs at whatever joke Ryan's telling and excuses himself to the bathroom.

"Fucking _asshole_," Brendon hisses once the door closes behind him, and he's not sure if it's to Ryan or himself. "Stupid fucking asshole _ruiner_."

It takes him a few seconds of psyching himself up for it, but he punches the wall. Brendon's mouth falls open and he just manages to stop himself from squeaking. "_Ow_!" He shouts, and runs over to the sink and turns the faucet. "Why is the stupid water _warm_, motherfu--"

Just then, Ryan walks into the bathroom, looking at him curiously. "Brendon?"

Brendon looks up and cringes, manages a smile. "Hi."

"You," Ryan trails off. "What did you do?"

"Oh, you know," Brendon says, which - what? "I really need ice, man."

Ryan looks down at his hand, he frowns but nods. "Okay, sure, I'll go get some from the bar."

"Thanks!" Brendon calls after him, and after Ryan's out the door he hisses. "Aaah, fucking damn that hurt."

Brendon slumps against the wall, holding his hand. "Fucking hate him," he says to himself, and it echoes against the tiles. "Hate him."

He flexes his fingers once, it hurts, he does it again. Brendon lets his head fall back against the wall and stares up at the ceiling. "Hate him, miss him, love him, whatever."

A toilet flushes, and a man with a cowboy hat walks out of a stall across from Brendon. The guy goes to wash his hands, dries them, and then raises his eyebrow at Brendon. "You've got some weird issues kid," he says, looking from Brendon's hand to his face. "Better sort that shit out." And then he's gone.

Brendon's staring at the door unbelievably until Ryan comes back.

 

***

 

They keep writing music, all of them, separately but they're doing it. And what surprises Brendon is that it _works_. It actually feels good and easy and _fun_. There's no strain, no real fights, Brendon just throws ideas out there and Spencer helps him build on it and vice versa. It's great, cohesive and they're writing the music they really want to write.

Brendon pulls up one of their songs on the computer, grinning. He picks up the phone and calls Ryan to come over before he even thinks about it.

About 20 minutes later, Ryan shows up. He's squinting like Brendon's big grin is blinding him, but he's smiling too.

"Hey," Ryan says, stepping inside.

"Man, I've gotta show you some songs," Brendon says excitedly. "They're _awesome_, has Pete told you--" He stops himself, forces a small laugh and scratches the back of his neck.

"It's cool," Ryan says, looking at the floor. "We talked and everything."

"Oh," Brendon says, raising his eyebrows. "Okay."

"Yeah." Ryan shifts his weight from foot to foot. "But he said you and Spencer had some "kick ass tracks down, bro", so," Ryan laughs.

Brendon grins at him and walks to the kitchen, motioning for Ryan to follow. "Pete's on my ass about sending him tracks whenever we demo _anything_." He hops up on the counter.

Ryan smiles but stands a little awkwardly next to the sink, his hands fisted in his pockets. "So, you're um..."

"Oh uh, going into the studio to record, yeah," Brendon answers, nodding. The air suddenly thickens, becoming tense, and that unwritten, unsaid rule of _don't ever, ever talk about it_ is staring Brendon in the face.

"We could," Ryan starts, he frowns a little. "Brendon..."

"Hey, what's done is done, right?" Brendon says, overly cheerful.

Ryan looks up and plasters on a smile. "Right."

Brendon stares for a moment, at Ryan's stupid hair and stupid face and that's when the urge to punch him comes back. Or to kiss him. Brendon shakes his head and says, "Come upstairs, I wanna play you one of the songs."

Ryan just blinks at him for a few seconds before he says, "Uh, okay."

Brendon smiles and he jumps off the counter, grabbing a bag of chips from the cupboard. When Ryan smiles back it doesn't look as forced. And if it's tense the rest of the day, neither of them mention it.

 

***

 

"He thinks you're like, mad at him," Spencer says, making Brendon's fingers fumble on the strings.

"What?"

"Ryan," Spencer explains. "But I told him you're not, because you're not, right?"

Brendon stares down at his guitar, splays his fingers over the strings.

Spencer sighs and Brendon hears him shift closer. "Hey, we talked about it--"

"No _you_ talked about it," Brendon snaps. "And maybe it was a good decision, good for us, but he didn't even have the balls to tell me himself. After everything, I'm still just supposed to go along with whatever you guys decide? Fuck that, man. What the fuck. It's like it didn't even _matter_."

"Brendon, come on," Spencer says, scowling. "You know that it mattered, it fucking _mattered_ okay? And maybe you deserve to be mad, but now Ryan feels like shit because he doesn't know what your problem is."

"I never even acted pissed around him," Brendon mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know how he knew."

"Give him some credit," Spencer smiles, a small I'm-not-done-with-you-yet-but-here smile, and, because it's impossible not to, Brendon smiles back. "He pays more attention than you think, especially to you."

Brendon snorts. "What?"

Spencer raises his eyebrows but doesn't say anything else about it. "You better call him up," he starts to laugh, "And soon, because Jon said that he's been writing shit lately, _high_ even."

Brendon feigns horror, clutching at his chest. "Great Scott."

Spencer's eyes widen and he puts on a serious face, nodding. "This is heavy, Brendon."

"Quick," Brendon says urgently, putting his guitar to the side and standing. "Hand me my phone."

It's lying right next to Spencer's thigh, he hands it up to Brendon. Then he smirks and scratches at his chin. "You're not gonna tell him we have to go back to the future, are you? Because I don't think he'll get that that's an apology."

Brendon pouts at him exaggeratedly. "You ruin all my plans, Spencer Smith."

"You ruin _my life_, asshole."

"Shh! It's ringing." Brendon starts humming and shaking his hips a bit. Spencer rolls his eyes but stays quiet, and then Brendon hears a low, cranky, "Hello?"

"Slacker!"

 

***

 

Ryan comes over a few hours after Spencer left. He holds up a McDonald's bag when Brendon opens the door, which he figures Ryan means it as a peace offering. Brendon feels like an asshole.

"You brought me food!" Just because he feels _bad_ doesn't mean he doesn't want it.

"Can I come in?" Ryan asks awkwardly, a small smile playing at his lips.

Brendon stops making grabby hands for a second to look up at him and just stare. Ryan has _never_ actually asked if he could come in before. "Uh, sure?"

They head to the living room, where it's even more apparent that Ryan's being weird because he doesn't even _sit down_. "What's up?" Brendon asks slowly.

"What?" Ryan sets the McDonald's bag on the table. "Nothing."

"You know, you _can_ sit down," Brendon tells him, because apparently Ryan needs informing of this fact.

"Okay." Ryan sits across from him, staring down at his clasped hands in his lap. "So, you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," Brendon says immediately, automatically.

Ryan huffs a laugh, tilting his head up. "You're mad at me."

"Well," Brendon frowns. "Whatever, not like we haven't been mad at each other before, right?"

"Sure." Ryan seems completely unwilling to look away from the ceiling. "You just never hated me before."

"I don't hate you." Brendon thinks back to that time in the bathroom, how bad his hand hurt, how hurt _he_ was, is. He stares at Ryan and says it again. "I don't hate you."

Ryan finally looks back at him, smiling a little sadly. "You're really bad at lying."

Brendon can't really bring himself to say anything to that.

Ryan sighs and stands up. "I came here," he says, staring at the ground, "to tell you how hard it was for me to tear myself away from the band, from - I wanted you to understand."

Brendon nods, smirks at himself and then shakes his head instead. "I don't, I couldn't, I mean."

"Yeah," Ryan says softly, that same sadness in his smile clinging around the edges. "Yeah." He walks back across the room and out the door. Brendon doesn't make a move to stop him.

 

***

 

It's a week before Brendon caves. See, it would seem that since Ryan came over to his house, he's been wallowing, and all the blame's on Brendon. It's been bad. A week of calls from everyone _yelling at him_. Well, not everyone, mostly Spencer, Jon, Pete, one time Patrick, Spencer, Zack, Jon, Spencer, Spencer, Zack, Spencer. Brendon decided to not turn his phone on again for a while.

But now he is on Ryan's porch, waiting for him to come to the door. He didn't need Spencer's death threats to realize he was being an asshole, but they helped.

Brendon hears a shuffling inside, something shatters and someone swears before there's a thumping behind the door. "Spencer?" He hears Ryan ask.

"God?"

"Brendon."

"Yeah." Brendon moves a little closer to the door. "Open up."

It's a little while before Ryan starts undoing the lock, and he probably takes longer just to be a little bitch. The thought makes Brendon smile.

Ryan finally opens the door, and he looks _awful_. He's wearing an ugly, sienna shirt—_backwards_, his hair's all greasy and he's wearing blue shorts that show off his knobbly knees. Brendon smiles harder, fondly.

"What?" Ryan asks after he finally opens the door, sounding exasperated.

Brendon clears his throat, wipes the smile off his face. "I think it's stupid," he says. "The unwritten, unsaid rule of never, ever talk about it? Is stupid. I never liked it."

"Bren--"

"And I didn't like that I was the last to know about you and Jon leaving the band, what the fuck."

Ryan sighs and rubs at his eye. "I didn't want. I didn't know how to _tell you_, I figured it would be easier--"

"I get it on some level, you know?" Brendon cuts him off again, he needs to get everything out. "I do, I just. I really. I didn't want to do this without you." He laughs, "It's _weird_ because it's, like, yours but you left it, and it makes sense I guess, but, yeah, not really."

Ryan starts, "Brendon."

"And maybe," Brendon continues, walking over to stand in front of Ryan. "Maybe I hated you because I missed you, which is kind of weird but true."

Ryan stares at him, eyes searching Brendon's face like there's an answer there, a clarification. "You know what's funny?" He asks.

Brendon's mouth twitches up. "What?"

"I've been writing a lot of shit lately, because I thought you really hated me."

Brendon laughs, startled and short. "I thought I did."

"I think you kind of love me," Ryan says, low and a little unsure. He takes a step forward, starting to lean in but then stops himself. "You _do_ love me, right?"

Brendon kisses him, his lips pressing to Ryan's softly, keeping his eyes open.

Ryan pulls away first, blinks at Brendon for a while before smiling a little. "Hey."

"Hey," Brendon smiles. "I think we're gonna be okay, maybe."

"I think," Ryan says, leaning his head on Brendon's shoulder. "That my songs are going to suck even _more_ now because I'll start writing sappy shit."

"Sappy shit," Brendon repeats. "That doesn't sound like a good combination _at all_."

"Do you think you could still hate me?" Ryan asks, leaning back. "That might help me find a balance."

Brendon grins and rests his forehead against Ryan's. "I can definitely work on it."


End file.
